Late Night
by marnimg
Summary: It's a late night and how else is Winry going to spend it than slaving away over Ed's busted automail? Fluffy one-shot. *Written being fully aware that Ed's limbs get returned. Just liked the idea of him growing up still dealing with the automail*. Enjoy!


His eyes are like the sun and his limbs are like the moon.

Those limbs. I watch him now as he flexes his arm and his leg, loosening up after a day of rain and soothing the pains. Bad weather always makes his stumps ache.

Edward Elric stands and stretches high. Both his flesh and his automail fingertips graze the ceiling and I can't help but admire him. For fifteen years, Ed was painfully self conscious about his height. At 18 he had surpassed me, and by 21 he was almost a foot taller that me. And it's something he likes to brag about.

Ed's growth spurts in the past six years have certainly kept me busy; growing inches every several months has had me spending countless all nighters in the garage with his arm and leg prosthetics being extended and replaced; and I'm constantly improving them for him. Three years ago I experimented with a new method of welding and attaching separate sheet metal over the body work to help give Ed move natural movements. The new sheet metal I used was lighter than the previous, further aiding Ed in feeling more natural.

But last year was my best upgrade yet: I found a way to extend the remaining nerves in the stump of Ed's arm to give him the sensation of touch back.

"You admiring my body?" Ed's voice jolts me from my thoughts. "You certainly got lucky, Miss Rockbell."

I roll my eyes. "Oh please," I scoff. "Your body would be nothing to admire if you didn't have me as your mechanic."

Ed flops next to me on the bed and grins. "That's certainly true." He agrees. Ed lies back on the pillows with his arms behind his head. I continue to study him; and not just my work. Him. Edward. His straight nose, golden hair that he still wears long, and his toned lithe body which is littered with battle scars.

"Take your shirt off." I tell him suddenly. Ed opens one eye and an amused smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"Steady on, Rockbell. I know I'm a gift to womankind, but really."

"Stop being a jerk, Elric, or I will detach your arm and leg whilst you're sleeping." I scowl at him and he gives a genuine laugh. I love making Ed laugh.

He sits up and in one swift movement removes his white t-shirt, discarding it on the floor. Ed winces slightly and reaches across his body with his left arm to massage his right shoulder with the automail attached.

"Are you okay?" I'm immediately in my mechanic mode. "Does it make you ache? Is it too heavy? Is there a twisted wire?"

"Calm down, Gearhead." Edward tells me fondly, his expression soft. Not many people see this side of Ed. "The weather is getting heavy out there. My stumps are hurting — I think there's going to be a thunderstorm later."

I kneel in front of him on the bed, Ed with his legs crossed, running his flesh hand up and down his automail. My heart tugs watching him like this; I know he would do anything to have his real skin and bone limbs back, but I've tried the best I can to give him as close to that as I can.

Without his shirt off, Ed's right shoulder, extending most of the way down his right side is a mess. The deep, violent scarring after all these years is still prominent; raised, fleshy, and jagged. I run my fingertips gently over the scarring, where metal meets skin.

Ed tenses at first, and then relaxes into my touch with his eyes closed and sighs. "Thank you, Winry." He whispers.

"What for?" I ask, using my other hand to brush loose golden strands out of his face. My left hand still gently traces over the scarring.

"You gave me things I never thought I'd get back." He replies quietly, his eyes still closed and his brow slightly furrowed.

"I made you an arm and a leg, Ed — anyone could have done that." I reply lightly, giving a slight laugh. It's not often Ed gets sentimental.

"You gave me more than that." Edward says this slowly — as if he's finding it somewhat hard to tell me what's on his mind. "You gave me my body. You gave me the ability to touch you —" here he raises his automail arm and cups my face with his hand, running a smooth, cool thumb over my lower lip. "— and you gave me family." Ed finishes. He opens his eyes and they glow like the sun.

Edward winces again and his hand flies to his right shoulder. Right on cue, the sky outside lights up and thunder rips through the silence. Rain begins to beat at the window pane and Edward grits his jaw in pain.

"Ed, is there anything I can do?" I ask desperately; even after all these years, there's still very little I can do. I can design and remodel his prosthetics all he desires, but the aching from the heavy atmosphere is something I can't fix.

And I hate not being able to fix things.

"It's nothing, Gearhead," Ed tries to shrug it off, but his voice is slightly strained and I've known him for too long to be fooled.

"Stop being stubborn," I snap at him. "And let me help you."

Ed sighs.

"You don't have to do this alone anymore," I tell him gently and run my fingers through his hair.

"I know." Ed replies quietly.

"Lie on your front," I order him. With a questioning look, Edward obeys me without any backtalk for once, and he adjusts himself so he's lying on his stomach, his cheek resting on the pillow with his arms by his side.

Another flash of lightening and grumble of thunder: Edward mutters profanities into the pillow.

"Now let me take a look," I lean over to my bedside table and grab a screwdriver and the wrench I usually use on Ed's automail.

"And there was me thinking you were going to give me a sensual massage," Edward grumbles and I give a wry smile.

"Behave yourself, Elric." I reprimand him lightly.

I feel around the scarred tissue and check the strength of his muscles.

"Owwwww," Ed groans,

"Sorry," I reply distractedly, continuing to prod and wriggle my fingertips around the join of flesh and metal trying to work out somewhere to ease the pressure slightly. I find a small screw to loosen and Edward gives a groan of pleasure.

"Oh yeah, Rockbell, you know how I like it," Edward murmurs and I roll my eyes.

"Alright, this is gonna hurt —" I warn him before digging in the screwdriver and pushing a trapped wire free. Edward gives a grunt and then a sigh of relief.

"How's your leg feeling?" I ask, moving down his body.

"Still aches, but my arm feels much better, thank you," he replies, sounding slightly muffled from the pillow.

"Need me to take a look?" I ask.

Edward rolls onto his back and flexes his automail leg. He frowns slightly. "Maybe; my knee has been grinding since I was training with Al and landed badly."

"Then perhaps you should take better care of the automail I spend hours labouring over and perfecting for you," I grumble, taking his leg in my hand and bending the knee. "Yep, nice going — you've warped inner knee joint out of place, dammit, Elric; I'm going to have to take this off and fix it _again_."

"Sorry," Edward sounds genuinely contrite.

Another round of thunder and lightening; the rain worsens against the windows.

I make a noise of mild annoyance having only had his knee on my workshop table last week after a separate training practise with Alphonse having rendered several screws in Ed's knee to come loose. _What do those boys do to each other_?

Ever since Al got his body back several years ago, the Elric brothers have been out in the training yard every day getting Al's body up to standard, and both of them got stronger together. I know that whilst Ed would prefer to have his arm and leg back, he'd happily give his other limbs for Alphonse to have his body. Since Al's body was returned, Ed has never once complained about his automail: but I can read him like a book.

"Settle down with me, Rockbell," Edward holds his arm out for me to lie next to him. With reluctance I set down my wrench and screwdriver and curl up into Ed's left hand side, draping one of my legs over the cool automail of Ed's leg prosthetic.

Edward twists his head and kisses my forehead but I can't relax.

"Nope, I can't do this knowing that your knee needs to be fixed —" I sit up suddenly and Edward gives a sigh.

"Winry, lie down," he says in exasperation.

"— I'm taking that leg off —"

"Switch your Gearhead brain off for _five minutes_ —" Edward sits up too and captures my face between his hands, kissing me.

I pull away. "I'm doing this because I love you," I say brusquely and none too gently begin to unscrew Edwards leg just above his knee cap.

"Dammit, Winry, cut it out," Ed snaps as I disconnect the leg with a sudden yank. "Swollen stumps, remember?"

"Sorry," I say, standing up and shouldering his leg.

"Hey," Ed shuffles to sit on the edge of the bed, planting his flesh foot on the floor. "Don't stay up all night okay, Gearhead?"

"Depends how much damaged you've done," I scold.

"It actually feels better now you've taken it off," Ed murmurs, massaging his bandaged stump. I look at him tenderly and set his leg down on the bed. I step between his open thighs and take his head in my hands, pulling him towards me, his forehead against my chest.

"I can take your arm off for a bit if you like?" I ask gently, running my fingers through his golden hair.

"That's alright," Ed mumbles into my shirt.

I kiss the top of his head. "I won't be more than a few hours," I assure him. I step back, picking Edward's prosthetic again and leaving the bedroom to the adjoining workshop.

When Ed and I bought our first house together in Central, Ed made sure there was a garage which he and Al then spent the summer turning into my workshop. They claimed it was for my own good, cutting down the hours I had to travel to Rush Valley, but I have a theory it's so that Edward could always have an on-site mechanic.

And they certainly both make sure I'm rarely out of work.

Taking a seat in front of my workbench, I lay out the metal leg and tie my hair back. I pull out my toolbox, beginning to take the prosthetic apart bit by bit, cleaning, oiling and finally extracting the warped joint. I start to weld a replacement and a few hours later, Edward enters in his wheelchair, a cup of tea balanced precariously between his knees.

"Ed!" I stand and hurry over to him, taking the mug. "Did you burn yourself?"

"Stop fussing," Edward tells me firmly. "And only a little." He adds quietly.

I smile. "Thank you," I kiss him.

"Hows my leg going?" Ed follows behind me in the wheelchair as I take my seat.  
"You haven't screwed it up as much as I thought," I tell him tightly. "Should be all back together in an hour or so. Go back to bed."

"I can't sleep without you," Edward admits in a murmur. I can't help smiling a little.

"How's your arm feeling?"

Ed pulls a face, showing me his level of discomfort. "The weather's eased up but it's still aching a little."

For the next hour, Edwards sits with me silently and companionably, watching carefully whilst I work on his knee and sip the tea he brought me.

I tighten the last screw. "Alright," I say eventually, stifling a yawn. "Come here."

I turn towards him and fix his new prosthetic. Edward stands, flexing the new joint and testing out the movement.

"Where would I be without you," he says, evidently pleased.

"In a lot more trouble, with a lot poorer quality of automail," I reply tiredly. "That fitting okay for you?"

"Perfect, as always. Thank you," Ed hold out his hands and pulls me out of my seat so he can hold me close to him. "Come on; you look tired."

"Try and keep this one intact for longer than a week, please?" I say and Edward gives a chuckle as he leads us back into the bedroom.

"Can't promise anything, Rockbell."


End file.
